


A Law Unto Themselves

by pinkys_creature_feature



Series: Vigilante Verse [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: ALL THE KINKS, Anal Sex, Ariadne is a little shit, Crime Fighting, D/s themes, Functioning Alcoholic!Eames, Genre typical violene, Got to keep the home life interesting when your BF is a kick ass vigilante, Kidnapping, Kink is in the last chapter, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Newspapers, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rescue, Slow Burn, Switching, rope binding, vigilante!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-09 08:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkys_creature_feature/pseuds/pinkys_creature_feature
Summary: Eames is a disgraced reporter and Arthur is a vigilante crime fighter working at the same paper.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Brookebond for not only helping form the idea for this fic, but for also cheering me on and being a wonderful beta! This would still be sitting in my idea folder if it wasn't for her! All of this started from one line: "ass identification". I regret nothing. There are at least three Archer references in this fic. See if you can find them! 
> 
> This is a complete work and will be posted once or twice a week, depending on my self control.

 

“Hey! Don’t touch that!” Eames cried, delivering a smack to the willowy arm reaching over his cubicle wall. 

 

“Oh come on. Just a little nip?” Ariadne pouted, her chin resting on the metal frame. 

 

Eames eyed her with distrust as he scooted his coffee pot further away and out of her reach. “You know I like to “Irish up” my coffee right?”

 

“Duh, why do you think I want some? This layout is killing me. It’s so bland!” Ariadne turned on the puppy eyes and Eames was too weak to resist. 

 

“You are old enough to drink right?” Eames asked pouring coffee mixed with whiskey into her offered cup. 

 

“Aren’t you a bit old for day drinking?” she shot back with a wink.

 

“Better during the day than in a bar at night where I might end up with unintended entanglements.” Eames grinned taking a sip himself, the Irish whiskey warming him from the inside. 

 

Ariadne sighed taking a drink, popping up to lean on her elbow. 

 

“Are you sitting on your desk?” Eames asked. 

 

“Are you a boozy old man?” 

 

“I’m a functioning alcoholic for you information.” Eames straightened in his chair. “And 38 isn’t that old.” 

 

“You are 12 years older than me. TWELVE. Cassette tapes were a thing back then. I mean you had to like, flip the tape over to listen to all the songs, right?” 

 

Eames sighed, resting his face in his hands. Ariadne cackled and slid off her desk with an audible plop. He heard her humming off tune as she used her paper cutter violently. 

 

Eames settled back in, typing away at the article on the latest political scandal; something involving a far right republican getting caught with a call boy, he had been working on it  for the last few hours when a familiar voice caught his attention. 

 

Arthur.

 

Arthur Cohen was his new boss. His super hot, 28 year old boss. He had been on leave for the last two weeks. The rumor was that there had been a death in the family, possibly a grandmother? Eames rolled his chair back and glanced around the partition. 

 

Arthur looked a little worse for wear, he had circles under his eyes and his normally perfect posture was slightly off. He was dressed immaculately, though, in a lovely navy suit. He was talking with one of the other editors who was apparently annoying him, if the furrow on his brow was any indication. 

 

When Arthur threw up his hands and walked away, heading towards his office, Eames saw his chance. He tried to quietly slip out of his cubicle but was stopped by Ariadne. 

 

“Going somewhere?” she asked, standing in his way. 

 

“I need Arthur’s input on this article I’m writing.” Eames figured that would be a convincing enough reason. 

 

Ariadne looked at him skeptically but stepped out of his way. “Someone has a crush,” she whispered in a sing-song tone as he passed. He gave her a one-finger salute behind his back. She only snorted in response. 

 

Eames stood outside the dark wood door—with the shiny brass name plate—for longer than he intended. Finally he knocked gently and waited to be permitted to enter.

 

Arthur was seated behind his desk, suit jacket unbuttoned, and a glass of scotch in his hand. All the stupid conversation starting questions in his head fizzled out the moment he saw how achingly tired Arthur looked. 

 

     “Arthur, are you alright? Not to be crass but you look like shit,” Eames asked as he slipped into one of the tasteful leather chairs facing Arthur’s desk.

 

“My grandmother passed away. I haven’t been sleeping much,” Arthur answered shortly. “What can I do for you Mr. Eames?” 

 

“Well I was going to beat around the bush and get your opinion on the article I’m working on but instead I’ll just get to the point: I wanted to make sure you were doing alright.” 

 

Arthur gave him a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m alright. I just have a lot on my mind and trying fulfilling Enda’s final wishes.” 

 

Eames wanted to give the man a hug but didn’t want another trip to HR about appropriate workplace interactions. The first time he had only been at the paper for a month and was trying to chat up an intern who turned out not to be gay and was easily offended. Arthur had rolled his eyes and said he thought it was stupid too but policy said he had to attend a class in HR. It had been a total farce. Within minutes Yusuf had pulled a bottle of vodka from his desk and discussed his extensive experience with drugs. “His compounds,” he had called them. They had been friends ever since. 

 

“How is your article by the way?” Arthur asked. 

 

“Oh it’s not bad. It’s always fun splashing a hypocrite’s sins across the headlines.” ‘Though not as fun when it’s done to you,’ Eames thought. 

 

“We really need to find you some better stories. You talent is wasted in political scandals.” Arthur grinned at him, a genuine one this time. 

 

“Well when people forget that my name is trash maybe I can get better ones,” Eames replied with only a small amount of bitterness. “Well, If you need anything just let me know,” Eames offered. After a long moment Arthur thanked him and Eames quietly excused himself. 

 

Eames had been at The Seattle Times for three months and it felt wonderful to write for a credible news paper again. His fall from grace back in London had been a public debacle that had taken him nearly three years to come back from. 

 

Eames had been working on a story about organized crime and how it had permeated almost every level of government. His informant was a childhood friend of his that had worked his way up through the mob ranks and had been working as a police officer. At first his editor was all for him reporting about corruption but, as things started to come out and powerful people began to take notice, his editor started to back away from him. 

 

     The first headlines about his personal life hit the tabloids a week later. Pictures of him and several of his lovers—male and female—were framed by accusations of adultery and torrid acts. Before long his editor was under pressure to let him go from the paper. 

 

     Two weeks later his friend turned up dead in an alley and Eames found himself out of a job. 

 

     It had been hard on Eames to see his sex life exposed and his name drug through the mud. He had started drinking heavily and became depressed. He ended up losing his corner flat and had to move in with his brother. Eventually, he gave up on finding a writing job in London and started looking stateside.

 

     Two years after his fall, he was ready to give up on everything. Then one day a email showed up in is inbox offering him a job as a staff political writer for a statewide paper based out of Seattle, Washington. 

 

     That was a little over three months ago and Eames thought was feeling happy again, finally. He might have only had a matchbox apartment in a sketchy area of town and he might only write shock stories about politicians, but it was something. And right now it was enough for him. He wanted to build his writing back up to something credible again one day, but he had to take it one step at a time. 

 

     Eames tossed a balled up wad of paper over the divider and chuckled when he heard Ariadne curse him. It was little things that made his days better. 

 

     After work Eames stopped in a nearby coffee shop and enjoyed the warm spring day on the patio with his danish and espresso. He needed to make a few more stops before going home for the evening, but he was feeling good that day and just wanted to enjoy it a bit longer. 

 

     Eames decided to run by the bank, hoping to toss a little bit into his meagre savings. He was leaning on the marble counter, charming the perky teller when it all went to shit. 

 

     “Everyone down now!” a voice boomed behind him followed by several gunshots. Eames’ heart tripped over itself as he dropped to the ground, moving to cover the young man that had been beside him in line. 

 

     Eames glanced around and counted five men in ski masks, two of them with automatic weapons. 

 

     “We want the money. If you don’t pull any tricks, no one will get hurt.” The apparent leader pointed the gun towards the teller counter and gestured for them to start emptying the drawers. 

 

    The young woman Eames had been speaking to was shivering with fear, her face tear-stained as she stacked money on the counter. Eames watched as she snuck a hand under the counter. 

 

     The silent alarm, Eames realized. The robbers noticed too. She screamed when the barrel of a gun was shoved in her face. 

 

     “Now gentlemen, that’s no way to treat a lady!” The words were out of Eames’ mouth before self-preservation could kick in. The gun was quickly pointed in his direction. 

 

     With a deep breath Eames sat back on his heels and lifted his hands. He felt eerily calm as he stared at the gun in front of him. He stole a glance at the teller who gave him a nod, indicating she had hit the alarm. He had no idea how long it would take for the cops to show up. 

 

     “Do you want all these people to die because you can’t keep your mouth shut?” the man asked. 

 

     “Look you can have the $300 in my savings, I don’t care.” Eames dared to look the man in the eyes, hoping he might distract him long enough to buy them some time. 

 

     “You’re lucky your brains aren’t on the wall.” 

 

     “Listen mate, after what I’ve been through the last three years; that isn’t much worse.” Eames had no idea where the flippant attitude was coming from but it seemed to be working. The other robbers were all watching to see what the leader would do. 

 

     Eames squeezed his eyes shut, taking a calming breath as the robber leveled the gun at his forehead. 

 

     Then the room went dark.

 

     There were shouts of surprise and the sound of fighting. It took a moment for Eames’ eyes to adjust to the low light but eventually he noticed a slim figure in all black, moving quickly to incapacitate the robbers one by one. 

 

     In a matter of heartbeats the five robbers were zip-tied together, some of them moaning in pain. The man in black adjusted the bandana around his face and tugged his hood firmly over his head before dropping a slip of paper. He disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. 

 

     Seconds later, the door burst open and cops flooded in along with the afternoon light. Eames was still sitting on his heels, dizzy from adrenaline. He wasn’t sure what had just happened. 

 

     The cops were shouting orders as the cleared the room. Eames edged closer to the paper so he could read the neatly scrawled note. It only had two words on it:  “The Pointman.” 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Eames was still shaking when he pushed open the door to his apartment. He tossed his keys on the bar and immediately poured himself a stiff drink. He had three more before he made it to the couch. 

 

The police had asked him a barrage of questions and had him sign a statement before he was allowed to leave the scene. It was close to midnight before he made it home. 

 

He could have died. He  _ had _ nearly died.

 

A shiver ran down his spine when he remembered the numb feeling of acceptance that had washed over him in that moment. He could have died and he didn’t care. 

 

Eames took another long drink, waiting for the familiar warm fuzziness to wash over him. If that stranger hadn’t stepped in when he did— Eames cut off that train of thought and drank until his brain shut off. 

 

 

Eames phone was chirping somewhere across the room, but the morning sunlight stabbed his eyes when he tried to open them, so he ignored it. When it rang again maybe 15 minutes later, he groaned and sat up on the couch where he had apparently slept. 

 

It was Arthur calling, the silly picture Ariadne had taken at the last Christmas party, appeared on the screen. Eames swallowed and silenced the phone. It was past noon and he hadn’t called into work. It probably wasn’t a call he’d want to deal with today. 

 

Eames finished the drink sitting on the table, hoping a little hair of the dog would cure the hangover that was beginning to rage behind his eyes. He sniffed and rubbed his stubbled jaw, taking in the mess he had made the night before. 

 

Eames knew that he was most likely in shock. He had covered enough stories to know that sometimes people just shut down when bad things happened—Eames felt pretty shut down at that moment. 

 

He turned on the TV and found the news, watching the reports about the robbery. He was actually a little surprised that it made the news considering no one had died and injuries were minimal. They were all talking about the mysterious man that had cut the power before taking out the robbers and leaving them like a present for the police. 

 

From what Eames could remember there was nothing particularly remarkable about the man. He had told the police that the vigilante was wearing what had appeared to be dark jeans and a hoodie and that he had a bandana around his face, hiding his nose and mouth. It could have been anyone off the streets. But he moved like lightening which told Eames he had been training for a while. The police had agreed with him, seemingly impressed by the masked man.

 

Eames was deep in thought when there was a knock at his door. He jumped violently before he remembered he was home. When he answered the door, the last person he expected to see was Arthur. 

 

“Arthur, what are you doing here?” Eames asked leaning against the door frame. 

 

“You didn’t come into work today. When I called you didn’t answer. I wanted to make sure you were alive.” Arthur looked well put together as always and looked better rested.

 

     When Eames let him into his apartment, he noticed the man was walking a bit stiffly on one side. 

 

“Are you okay? You’re walking like you are sore,” Eames stated trying to clear some of the bottles, hopefully before Arthur noticed.

 

“I’m fine, pushed myself too hard at the gym last night,” Arthur muttered taking a seat in one of Eames’ mismatched chairs. “So I see that you are alive, want to tell me why my best writer didn’t show up for work today? Instead I find him in his apartment smelling like a brewery.” 

 

“Arthur, I am far from your best writer and we both know it.” Eames ran his fingers through his uncombed hair before sitting on the couch. “Did you hear about the bank robbery yesterday?” 

 

Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I saw it on the news this morning.” 

 

“Well I was there. There was a gun to my head and honestly I was so scared I came home and drank myself into a stupor. I shouldn’t have been so stupid but,” Eames trailed off opening his hands with a shrug. 

 

“Are you hurt?” Arthur asked studying him closely. 

 

“Only mentally.” Eames tried to grin but it turned into a grimace. 

 

“I can see how that would weigh heavily on you Eames and I’m glad you are okay.” Arthur relaxed back into the seat a bit as he searched for words. “Go ahead and take tomorrow off but I need you back after that. I can’t run the Sunday paper without your story.” 

 

     Eames nodded, worrying his lip.

 

     Arthur stood and moved towards Eames, resting his hand on Eames’ shoulder. “Try to lay off the booze. It doesn’t make the pain go away, it’s always there again when you sober up.” 

 

     Eames sniffed, not wanting to see the knowing look in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur patted him on the shoulder before leaving him to himself.  

 

 

     Ariadne was on him the moment he stepped into his cubicle. “Oh my god Eames! You… YOU! Tell me everything.” 

 

     Eames couldn’t help but chuckle as she bounced on her desk on the other side of the divider. Eames had taken Arthur’s advice and spent his second day off collecting himself and getting ready to face his job again. By the end of the day he had rationalized that he had stepped in to stop others being hurt, even if it caused harm to himself. Not that he didn't value his life, just that he valued others lives more than his own.

 

     He put on a conspiratorial grin and gave Ariadne a blow by blow retelling in the most salacious way possible. She hung on his every word before biting her lip and delivering a burn she had probably been working on for two days. 

 

     “Wow, surprised you didn’t have a heart attack. All that excitement could be too much for a man of your age.” 

 

     “Ari I have at least two more good years before I go senile. Stop trying to rush me to the grave,” Eames teased, brewing some Irish coffee for the both of them. 

 

     “Damn. I was hoping to put you in a home next year and move into your apartment.” Ariadne offered her coffee cup with a grin. 

 

     “You know my apartment is in a crap part of town and is roughly the same size as our cubicles right?” 

 

     “Yeah but at least you aren’t sharing that space with two roommates.” Eames conceded her point and poured some whiskey in her coffee. 

 

     “You’re the art director, how do you not make enough money to have your own place?” 

 

     Ariadne looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Student loans dude.” 

 

     Eames couldn’t find a reason to disagree with her so he nodded and sipped his coffee. Eventually, Ariadne caught a buzz and plopped back into her seat leaving Eames in peace. He stared at his story, trying again and again to finish it. Instead he found himself googling the masked man from the bank. 

 

     There apparently had been a sighting almost every night the for last few days. Once at the bank, another breaking up a mugging, and just last night he was spotted securing an abusive husband to a lamp post. Seattle had a new vigilante on the scene. 

 

     The gears in Eames’ head started to turn. It seemed most of the appearances had been in the general area around Eames’ apartment. He knew his neighborhood wasn’t the best so it was a easy place to find crime. 

 

     Eames shook his head, trying to force the thought from his mind. He was not going to wander around and try to find this vigilante. He was not. 

 

     Eames set his shoulders and forced himself to finish his story and email it to editing. Ariadne was oddly silent on her side of the wall. Friday was crunch time for her, trying to get all the layouts ready for the weekend editions and making sure spaces could be switched out in case there was breaking news. 

 

     On Saturday The Pointman was all over the news, he saved a couple from a burning car and later that same night stopped a robbery at the local deli. The investigator in Eames was itching to come out. He kept staring at the camera stashed at the top of his closet. 

 

     On Sunday Eames grabbed his camera and went out. He didn’t know where he was going but he listened to a police scanner app he had downloaded on his phone, using it to pinpoint where The Pointman may be. 

 

     It was well into the week before he finally caught up with the man. He had several near misses—showing up moments too late to find criminals already bound and waiting for the police—but tonight he was lucky. 

 

     It was just past midnight when he heard a scuffle and a woman’s cry from an alley just up ahead. Eames readied his camera, his gut told him that it wasn’t another false alarm. Eames peaked around the corner and saw the masked man tangled in battle with two men, a young woman cowered against the wall. 

 

     Eames snapped several pictures, making sure not to use his flash or draw attention to himself. He was in awe of the speed of The Pointman, this was someone who had been practicing for years. He didn’t seem unusually strong rather quick and efficient. Within seconds The Pointman had both men on the ground, wrists and ankles zip-tied together. The woman uttered a “thanks” before running barefoot down the street. 

 

     The Pointman stood for a handful of seconds, his back to Eames, his head down, like he was soaking in the victory. Sirens sounded in the distance catching The Pointman’s ear, he turned his head and Eames snapped one more photo of his striking profile before the man ran off. He disappeared quickly into the shadows. Eames took the hint and left as well. 

 

     His heart was pounding as he ran back to his apartment. The rush he felt made him feel alive, truly alive, for the first time in years. It was better than his visits to the coffee shop patio or his anonymous hookups. He stumbled as he opened the door to his apartment and rushed to his laptop. 

 

     His hands were shaking as he hooked up his camera. Moments later the pictures started downloading and Eames was grinning from ear to ear. Some of the pictures were blurry because of the low light but there were a few that were beautiful. He was a fair distance away but you could see the strength and grace of the man’s movements. Eames sat back and clapped his hands. He knew what he needed to do. And he had a plan:

 

He was going to figure out who The Pointman was. 


	3. Chapter 3

     Eames got better at tracking The Pointman over the next few weeks. He caught up with him several more times and snapped some great pictures. The Pointman seemed to be upgrading his costume. His dark jeans were replaced with soft looking leather biker pants and his hoodie was now layered with an armored leather jacket. 

 

     He suspected he had been spotted more than once by the vigilante but so far he hadn’t tried to run Eames off so he considered it a win. 

 

Eames had been exhausted most mornings when he got to work but he was excited about the news again. In almost every meeting he brought up his wish to cover the new vigilante but he was repeatedly shut down. He wasn’t discouraged though, sometimes it took a long time to get the attention of the higher-ups. 

 

On Friday, Eames set out again with his camera but things didn’t go as planned. Eames was tailing a group of sketchy looking youths when he was spotted and had to spend the next 20 minutes trying to lose them in the maze of buildings. 

 

Eames returned home later that night when he was sure he wasn’t being followed. He collapsed in bed, adrenaline finally wearing off.

 

He slept far too late but crawled out of bed to check the mail for the new camera lens he had ordered that would work better in low light. When he opened his box his package wasn’t there but there was a large manila envelope. 

 

When he turned it over in his hand it was completely blank; no return address or stamps. Eames tore it open on his way back up the elevator and pulled out several newspaper clippings. 

 

Eames opened his apartment door and rushed to the table, spread the clippings over it. His curiosity piqued. Most of them were unsolved crime reports. There were several from a string of unsolved murders and some for other violent crimes. Eames was confused as to why someone was sending him these clippings. Did he have a stalker? After his fall from grace someone had sent him a stream of letters ended with a death threat. That person had never been arrested even after several police reports. He would like to think they wouldn’t follow him all the way from London, but he wasn’t sure.

 

Eames noticed a slip of paper hidden in the fold of one of the articles. When he pulled it out, he froze. It was just one of the slips of paper The Pointman left at each scene. Had The Pointman sent him this? What was it supposed to mean? 

 

     Eames read over each article trying to find any clue he could as to why The Pointman might send these to him. When he came up with nothing, he gave a frustrated sigh and stuffed the articles back in the envelope, tossing it onto the table, assuming it was just a hoax. 

 

     Eames continued to go out most nights trying to track down The Pointman but he seemed to be getting better at eluding him. Eames wasn’t able to find him for several days. After that more envelopes started showing up. 

 

     Frustrated, Eames saved the parcels, not knowing what to do with them. Finally Eames decided to take them to work with him to get Arthur’s opinion. 

 

     Eames found Arthur in his office after the daily meeting. Eames almost lost track of what he had gone there for when he walked in on Arthur, suit jacket off, shirt unbuttoned, and replacing a bandage on his side. 

 

     “Arthur, are you alright? What the hell happened to you?” Eames cried rushing to Arthur’s side

     “I was moving some of my grandmother's furniture and the mirror fell off the vanity. I’m fine,” Arthur stated quickly buttoning up his shirt. 

 

      Eames narrowed his eyes, wanting to believe Arthur but finding his excuse suspicious.

 

      “What can I do for you Eames?” Arthur asked, looking a bit annoyed. 

 

      Eames cleared his throat and tried to forget about all the bare skin he had just witnessed. “Well, uh, I wanted to get your opinion on something.” Eames moved to sit in one of the leather chairs, moving it closer to the desk. “I have been getting these strange packages. At first I thought it might be a prank or maybe a stalker, but there has always been this calling card in them.” Eames laid one of the paper slips on the desk. 

 

“I don’t know what he wants. I’ve looked into all of these articles, some are years old by the way, and I’ve got no connections.” Eames rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on, he could get a drink in a bit to fix it. 

 

Arthur stood slowly and examined the clippings, picking them up one by one and putting them in chronological order. He stood silently for a while, his brow furrowed in the most adorable way. “This does seem pretty odd. Is this the same guy you have been wanting to write about?” Arthur asked.

 

Eames nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been tracking him down when I can to try and get photographs.” 

 

Arthur looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Are you insane?”

 

“Probably.” 

 

Arthur shook his head with a sigh. “My guess is that they need you to do something. Maybe research these cases? See if you can find any new information? I mean these are all unsolved from what I can tell...” Arthur trailed off studying one of the articles. “It would make sense to have someone with your contacts looking into things.” 

 

Eames worried his lip, picking up the closest article. “That could be it, but they haven’t left me with a way to contact them.”

 

“Maybe they will,” Arthur suggested. 

 

“Perhaps.” Eames studied Arthur again. There were fading bruises on his hands and a bruise along his cheek, barely visible if it wasn’t for the light. “Arthur, I need to ask, are you really alright? You look like you’ve joined a fight club... No one is hurting you are they?” Eames was really concerned. His fondness for Arthur extended farther than the man’s amazing bottom. 

 

Arthur seemed confused for a moment then he set his jaw, taking his seat again carefully. “I’m fine Eames. I take boxing classes and sometimes I get a few bruises but it’s nothing out of the ordinary. And I told you about the mirror. Trust me I feel stupid about it but it looks worse than it is.” 

 

“Ok Arthur, but promise me, if you need help with something just ask.” Eames gathered his clippings and stood to leave. 

 

“Eames?” Arthur asked softly as Eames turned to leave. 

 

“Yes darling?” Eames turned back, his hand on the knob. 

 

Arthur worried his lip then grinned at Eames. “Learn to knock? Please? I am extremely lucky to have someone as gorgeous— I mean talented as you working at this paper.” The tips of Arthur’s ears turned bright red. “Don’t make me send you to HR again.” 

 

Eames stared at the other man for a moment not sure if he had heard him right. Finally, his brain came back online. “Well, I will start knocking if you stop undressing in your office. Besides what I just saw is worth a visit to Yusuf.” Eames winked at Arthur and ducked out the door not waiting for Arthur’s response. 

 

Eames whistled as he turned the corner, walking down the row of cubicles to his. Arthur thought he was gorgeous. Eames was floating on cloud nine. 

 

“Why are you so happy? Half price sale on geritol?” Ariadne asked, her mousy brown head popping up over the divider. 

 

“What are you going to do if I ever get an office? Use a door?” Eames hedged.

 

“Snapchat?” she suggested before putting on her ‘stern face’. “Spill. Something went well for you. Get a handy in the men’s room?” 

 

Eames poured himself some spiked coffee and sighed. “No poppet. You are so lucky I don’t report you to HR.” 

 

“Yusuf wants this. He is nothing but putty in my hand.” Ariadne mimed crushing said putty in her tiny fist.  

 

“Arthur slipped up and said he thought I was gorgeous.” Eames couldn’t hide his grin anymore. 

 

Ariadne grinned like a mad woman. “That. Is. Awesome.” 

 

“Yeah it kind of is.” 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Eames rushed through his new political story and sent it off to editing before he made a trip to the archive. He stopped by the vending machine and bought all the chips and sodas he could carry. He wasn’t supposed to have drinks in the stacks but this late in the day no one would be working back there to notice. 

 

Eames went past the computer banks, knowing that he would find what he was looking for quicker in the hard copies. He had always had an affinity for the stacks. The smell of old paper greeted him as he walked in and flipped on the dim lights. It was quiet and still in the stacks as Eames found the shelves he needed to start looking. 

 

Hours later Eames had stacks of old news papers spread on every surface, he snapped pictures of different parts and took notes on a pad of paper. It had been so long since he had done any research like this and it felt amazing. When Eames checked his watch it was well past two in the morning and his eyes were starting to droop. 

 

He rubbed his eyes and moved to sit on the floor picking up the next paper. Before he knew it his eyes slipped shut. 

 

“Eames. Wake up.” Arthur’s voice jerked Eames away, limbs flailing before he spotted Arthur. “Eames where you down here all night?” 

 

Eames rubbed his eyes and looked up at Arthur, who looked amazing in his sweater vest. “Wha—What time is it?” Eames asked stretching.

 

Arthur looked at his watch with a smirk. “Almost ten am. It took me forever to track you down. Why don’t you work from home today and get some rest?” Arthur suggested offering a hand to help Eames to his feet. 

 

“But who would get Ari buzzed so she can work?” Eames asked before he thought about his words. 

 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Arthur muttered as he settled Eames on his feet. “I’m going to call you an Uber.” 

 

Before 11 Eames was on his couch, computer open, and a fresh pot of coffee brewing. He took page after page of notes, keeping track of possible leads and information. He cracked his fingers and did something he hadn’t done in years; hack police files. 

 

Turns out things hadn’t changed much over the years and it was laughably easy to gain access to classified files. He hadn’t tried hacking since his last big story. Somehow that fact had been glossed in favour of splashing pictures of one of his married lover across the front pages. 

 

By the end of the day, Eames had a notebook full of leads and information, but he still had no idea what to do with it all. 

 

Eames stretched and ordered a super supreme pizza. Thirty minutes later, he made his way down to the lobby to meet the delivery guy and saw that the mail had been delivered. He grabbed his mail and his pizza and went back upstairs. He had his first slice in hand he when noticed a new blank envelope. 

 

He pulled it open to find typed instructions telling him to creating a file on a shareable google doc and an email to add. Eames did his best to track the email but he didn’t get far. Someone was really good at covering their tracks. Eames sighed and set to copying his information into the file. 

 

Eames did his best to stay up and watch the file. Knowing that if anyone logged on it would show it. But the lack of sleep the night before was catching up to him. Finally, he gave up at midnight and crawled into bed. 

 

While he was falling asleep Eames realized he hadn’t had a drink all day. With a rueful laugh, Eames rolled over. Tomorrow was always another day. 

 

 

Ariadne greeted him when he reached his cubicle. She was sitting on his desk with what looked to be a police notification in her hand. Well, by greeted he meant ‘delivered a drag so hard that he was shocked her brain worked that well in the morning.’

 

“So what happened to you yesterday? Did you get lost? Because you know your phone has GPS, right? Oh my god… what did people do before cell phones if they got lost?” 

 

Eames groaned and rubbed his face. He was too sober for this. “We asked for directions. Or read a map.” 

 

“You had to actually interact with other humans? I thought you just navigated by the stars with a sextant.” Ariadne’s face twisted with mock disgust. “You are a goddamn caveman.” 

 

“What I am is too sober. Now hop off so I can make some coffee.” Ariadne giggled to herself and hopped off his desk. It was odd to realize just how tiny she was when she wasn’t sitting on her desk. “How do you reach the top cupboard?” 

 

“By precariously balancing on chairs and sometimes an ice cooler,” she said matter of factly as she flipped her hair and turned the corner to her desk.  “Make that damn coffee! I can’t do this layout sober.” 

 

They both had a buzz before the morning meeting. They sat together at the back of the room as always and split a breakfast burrito. So far things were flowing as normal, people were being assigned different jobs for the day. 

 

Eames wasn’t paying attention when his name was called and Ariadne had to elbow him. 

    “Eames, you with us?” Cobb asked, his ill-fitting jacket making him look older than he was. 

 

“Sorry, Cobb!” Eames muttered, sitting up straighter.

 

Cobb looked mildly annoyed but cleared his throat and continued. “Eames you have been wanting to report on this vigilante for a while, well here is your chance. It looks like he took down some big time crime ring last night. I want a full report for tomorrow's paper.” 

 

Eames was shocked at first. He had been asking for weeks for this opportunity and now he had it. “You got it, sir,” he muttered giving Ariadne a fist bump under the table. It took him a full minute to realize that the crime ring The Pointman took down was related to a lot of the information Eames had been researching. He might have been going crazy but he felt a little giddy knowing that he might have had a hand in the bust. 

 

He stayed after the meeting to talk with Cobb on what angle he wanted Eames to cover and to hammer out a few more details. When he got back to his desk, there was a picture of a cassette tape and a pencil with a sticky note in Ariadne’s scrawl saying “What does this mean Grandpa?” 

 

Eames was going to strangle her one day, in the most loving way possible. He wadded up the picture and threw it at the back of her snickering head. Eames was excited to finally be writing about the vigilante and did his best to ignore Ariadne’s teasing until the story was ready, cited, and sent to editing. 

 

“Oh man you have such a hard on for that dude. Almost as bad as your one for Arthur… what did you do? Stock up on little blue pills?” 

    Eames groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Honestly it’s been so long since I got laid I almost—” 

 

Eames was cut off by Arthur clearing his throat behind him. “I, uh, I wanted to tell you; your piece was really good. Cobb wants you to stay on it.” Arthur tried to hide a grin as he turned and walked back towards his office.

 

“Great, now Arthur knows I’m on a dry spell,” Eames said miserably. 

 

“Ha! Like he’s getting any either. Just crawl under his desk and you know—” Airadne mimed a blow job.

 

“Wishful thinking kitten. I like my job just fine, thank you.” 

 

“Seriously. I can read people and he totally would be up for that. I mean why else would he come all the way from his office just to tell you that when he could just email you.” 

 

Eames conceded the point and remembered how amazing Arthur looked in his perfectly tailored pants. 

 

When Eames came out of his thoughts, Ariadne was watching him with a sweet smile. “Arthur does know how to tailor those pants,” she mused dreamily. “Sploosh!” she cheered ruining the mood. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

    Eames had been working on The Pointman story full time for the last few weeks and at night he was scouting information to feed to the vigilante. It had been keeping him busy and had all but stopped his night-time adventures. Eames had begun to jog early in the mornings to help keep himself focused and keep him from getting cabin fever. 

 

Ariadne had imposed a mandatory ‘Flatliner Fridays’ after ‘Margarita Mondays’ hadn’t taken off. For the last two weeks Ariadne had made it a point to drag Eames out, along with Yusuf, to the local bar and wouldn’t let them leave until they were being poured into a taxi. Eames should have learned not to try to out drink the pixie by at least the second week. 

 

Eames would wake up on Saturday with a horrible hangover and texts from Ariadne about how she sent all the pictures from the night before to Arthur. He never knew if she was serious or not because Arthur never seemed phased come Monday morning. Even if Arthur had started visiting their cubicles more often. Eames never understood why Arthur didn’t take Ariadne up on the offer to join them. 

 

The other nights of the week Eames researched and sent information to The Pointman. He found himself watching the Google doc, waiting to see if the vigilante would log in. After about a week he caught someone on the file from the email he had added but he didn’t have the nerve to say anything. 

 

Eames forced himself out of bed early Monday morning to get ready for a run. He had come to enjoy the quiet early hours when the sun was almost up but not many people were out and about. Eames dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and stretched before heading out into the cold morning air. 

 

Something about the crisp air helped jolt his brain out of the the alcoholic haze that he normally floated through. He found his pace and let his mind wander. He considered the latest case he had been working on and how he had been running dry. It was similar to the case he had followed in London. Organized crime, human trafficking, the whole nine yards. He had hit a wall when he was unable to locate any contacts. This group was really good at covering their tracks and The Pointman had been a very large thorn in their side. 

 

Eames was less than a mile from his house when he realized something was off. At first he dismissed the he had seen the same van pass him more than once. But when he turned a corner and the van was there again, he knew something was very wrong. His gut told him to get away as quickly as possible but he didn’t want whoever it was to know they had been seen so he kept his pace but turned down a different road. 

 

Once out of sight Eames reached for his phone and cursed when his hand came up empty. He could see it sitting on the counter in his bathroom, forgotten. Eames mentally tried to plan a new route to get himself somewhere safe. 

 

Eames turned onto a side road and stopped dead when he saw the van there waiting. The sound of footfalls echoed behind him and he realized he was trapped. 

 

With a last ditch effort, Eames attempted to barrel past the masked men that started coming out of the van. He landed a hard elbow to the chin of one of them before they descended on him. 

 

Eames let out a harsh cry as a black bag was forced over his face. He struggled against the arms restraining him but the sting of a needle to his arm told him he wasn’t getting away. 

 

His limbs started to feel heavy but he still tried to fight, not going down without leaving them something to remember him by. 

 

Moments later he could feel the world around him dimming and he couldn’t fight anymore. Before he blacked out he felt himself being lifted into the van. The last thing he remembered was the door slamming shut. 

 

 

Eames came to slowly. The world was still fuzzy, the bag still over his head. He took a moment and assessed what he could without drawing attention to his conscious state. He could feel rope around his wrists and ankles. There was a sore spot on his left side, possibly a cracked rib. He listened closely for any signs that he wasn’t alone. He could hear some movement from behind what he assumed was a door. 

 

With a sigh, Eames explored the ropes around his wrists, looking for a weak spot so he could start working at the knots. He was almost loose when the sound of a door slamming open startled him. 

 

The room filled with voices yelling and Eames was hit across the face. His cheek bloomed with pain, almost disguising the prick of a needle. His world spun and he thought he was going to be sick before he blacked out. 

 

Eames sputtered awake, blinking freezing cold water out of his eyes. The hood was ripped off his head, the low light in the room burning his eyes. He coughed, trying to gain his bearings. There were three men in the room, faces covered with ski masks. His hands were now tied to the frame of the chair where he couldn’t mess with the knots. 

 

“We know who you are Mr. Eames,” one of them said. “Now we want to know what you know about The Pointman.” 

 

Eames tried to speak but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He took a breath and tried to clear his throat. “I don’t know who he is,” he croaked. 

 

His head exploded with pain when he took a fist to the temple. Eames fought back the cry tearing at his throat. He was pretty sure he had a concussion at this point and it felt like someone had filled his head with broken glass and shook it. 

 

“I. Don’t. Know. Who. He. Is,” Eames growled through the pain. “I only contact him through an anonymous email. He probably won’t come for me. If that’s what you are hoping for, you are shit out of luck.” 

 

“If that’s true; what use are you to us?” the leader asked as he signalled the men to follow as he left. 

 

Eames hung his head, resting his chin on his chest as he tried to let the pain fade. It sunk in that this may be it for him. There was no reason for The Pointman to come for him. He was nothing and these men might very well kill him. 

 

Eames had no idea how long he had been there, but judging by the cries from his bladder and stomach, he had been there at least a day. Surely someone had noticed he was missing by now and was trying to find him. 

 

‘Ari is probably worried sick,’ Eames thought. ‘Maybe even Arthur is worried about where I am.’ 

 

Eames squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the tears burning behind them. 

 

 

They continued to question him every few hours. They, whoever they were, got more creative in their ways of trying to get answers. 

 

“I’ve seen that girl from your work. Ariadne? She’s pretty, and soft. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. And it will if you don’t give us the answers we want,” the leader threatened, a gun pressed against Eames’ temple. 

 

“I don’t know how many ways I can tell you; I have no idea who he is.” Eames tried to control his breathing, fearing he might pass out. The leader angrily sheathed his gun before kicking Eames in his hurt ribs. 

 

Eames screamed, his vision going grey around the edges. If something didn’t happen soon he wasn’t going to make it. He pushed the thought from his mind as they left him alone again and started to put every detail to memory. If he made it out he was going to take these assholes down. 

 

Eames was shocked out of a fitful slumber by a commotion outside of the room. There were shouts and the sounds of bodies hitting the floor, a short burst of gunfire and then silence. 

 

Eames’ heart pounded, too scared to hope but too stubborn not to. Eames listened closely trying to catch the tiniest sound. 

 

He flinched when the door swung open and a dark hooded figure entered the room. At first he thought it was them coming to kill him until he noticed the armored jacket and leathers. 

 

The Pointman stood silent in front of him, the lower part of his face covered by a black cloth mask, his eyes obscured by black paint under the shadow of his hood. 

 

Gloved fingers turned his face to one side, the side Eames knew was stained with bruises. Fingers under his chin brought his face up and for a moment Eames could see the glint in The Pointman’s eye. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. 

 

The man studied Eames closely before covering Eames’ eyes with his gloved hand. Eames gasped, the world suddenly black again. After several agonizing seconds he felt lips against his own in a rough needy kiss. 

Eames whined, his lips split and stinging but something in the kiss made him respond. There was the hint of familiarity in the passion of the kiss that set his blood on fire. 

 

As quickly as it started, it was over, the hand gone from over Eames’ eyes. He opened them to see The Pointman’s back to him as he adjusted the mask. 

 

Eames studied the man, taking in every detail. Realization hit him like a truck. The curve of the shoulders, the narrow hips, and the perfectly formed rear in front of him left him with no doubt. 

 

Arthur was The Pointman. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have no self control so here is more!

Eames stared in shock at the back of The Point- Arthur’s back. It all started making sense. Arthur’s strange injuries, his resistance to anyone covering The Pointman. Arthur had started feeding him information to keep him off the streets, stop Eames from following him. 

 

Eames opened his mouth to say something but shut it quickly. This wasn’t the time for him to call Arthur out. The men on the other side of the door might hear him. 

 

Arthur’s shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. He turned, pulling a knife from his belt and cutting the ropes holding Eames to the chair. Eames rubbed his numb wrists, wincing at the purple bruises. Eames tried to stand but stumbled, nearly going face first into the wall. His head was spinning even when he closed his eyes and he leaned against the wall trying to will his balance back. 

 

Eames tried to tell Arthur that he needed help, but a finger was placed against his lips. Arthur grabbed him around the waist and Eames threw an arm over his shoulder. When they left the room, Eames looked around at the men tied back to back. They all looked worse than he did, at least he hoped so. 

 

Arthur lead them outside and to what looked like the same van he had been taken in. Eames hesitated for a moment but let himself be ushered into the front seat. Eames didn’t remember the van starting, he was exhausted and his head hurt.

 

He woke up in his own bed. Arthur, no longer dressed as the vigilante but in a dark dress pants, sat in a chair nearby. 

 

“Arthur,” Eames’ voice came out as a broken whisper. 

 

“Eames.” Arthur jumped from his chair, rolling his shirt sleeves up. “We got a call at the office that you were here. I came right over. Do you want to go to the hospital?” 

 

Eames narrowed the eye that wasn’t nearly swollen shut and cleared his throat. “No doctors, I’m not dying. I just need a drink.” 

 

“I’m not giving you alcohol Eames, it could cause further bleeding and it just won’t help. If you want something for your headache I will bring you something for it.” Arthur sat his hands on his hips, challenging Eames to push him. 

 

“Then get me something for this bloody headache. Feels like my skull is split open.” Eames covered his eyes, the daylight filtering through his curtains was enough to hurt. 

 

Arthur cleared his throat and Eames tried to sit up in the bed but it made his head spin. Arthur moved to sit on the bed, letting Eames pop the pills in his mouth before helping him take a drink. “I called Yusuf, I figured he might have some saline IVs to help get you hydrated.”

 

“How do you figure?” Eames asked. 

 

Arthur flushed and looked away. “Let’s just say that I...indulged too much the night before a huge meeting and Yusuf set me on a IV to get rid of the hangover.” 

 

Eames chuckled, even though it came out sounding raspy and killed his ribs. “So much I don’t know about you.” Eames studied him for any reaction to his words. 

 

“Yeah, I guess there is,” Arthur said with a sigh. Eames stopped him with a hand on his arm when Arthur moved to stand. 

 

“Anything you want to tell me? Your secrets are safe with me.” Eames hoped Arthur caught the meaning of his words. He didn’t want to call him out if he wasn’t ready to tell him. Not yet anyway. 

 

Arthur studied his face for a moment. Eames could see the wheels turning in Arthur’s head. “Not that I don’t trust you Eames, but some things I need to keep to myself. At least for now.” 

 

Eames wanted to argue but a heavy knock on the door distracted them both. Arthur pulled his arm away and went to get the door. Yusuf’s voice filtered through the room before the man himself came around the corner. 

 

Arthur grasped Yusuf’s shoulder and said he was going to order some food. Yusuf’s smile dropped and he came quickly to Eames’ bed, setting his large tackle box like case on the floor. 

 

“You look like shit my friend,” Yusuf said, opening the box and pulling out several items. “Let’s see if I can get you feeling better. I need to take a small amount of blood to make sure any medications I give you won’t interact with anything in your system.” 

 

“Are you a super secret doctor or something?” Eames asked letting Yusuf clean the crook of his arm. 

 

“Or something. I did attend medical school for a while but they didn’t like my practices.” Yusuf grinned tying a tourniquet around Eames’ arm.

 

Yusuf was efficient and quick when he drew blood and set an IV. Eames watched as Yusuf used some sort of kit to test his blood. Yusuf seemed pleased with the results and turned to hang the IV bag from a nail in Eames’ wall. 

 

“Looks like we should be fine. Let’s see if we can’t get you feeling a bit better.” Yusuf winked and pulled some liquid from a vial before sticking the syringe into Eames’ IV. 

 

    Eames felt warmth spread from across his chest down to his toes. Whatever it was that Yusuf was giving him, he was in love. 

 

    Arthur came back into the room just as Yusuf finished pushing the drug into Eames’ IV. Eames couldn’t help but giggle at the expression on Arthur’s face. 

 

    “What did you give him?” Arthur asked furrowing his brow.

 

    “Something of my own creation,” Yusuf said proudly. When Arthur gave him a very unimpressed look he continued. “It’s mainly a mix of painkillers and anti nausea medications. With a few things of my own in there.”

 

    Arthur narrowed his eyes but shrugged and went back to his chair. Eames smiled at Yusuf and clapped his hand. “You are a good friend,” he muttered. “I can’t feel my toes.” 

 

    “Good then it’s working.” Yusuf stood and went to pull another chair into the already crowded room. 

 

    Eames felt like he was on a cloud. Or that his bed was a cloud. He wasn’t sure. When he looked around next Yusuf wasn’t there and Arthur was engrossed with something on his phone. 

 

     “Arthur,” Eames muttered, waving a hand to get the other man’s attention. Arthur looked up and put his phone in his pocket. 

 

    “What is it? Can I get you something? Yusuf went to pick up the food.” Arthur looked horribly awkward. 

 

    “You look good in those pants.” Eames nodded thinking about the leather pants Arthur wore as the vigilante. “I’d know that lovely arse anywhere.” 

 

    Arthur blushed bright red to the tips of his ears when Eames winked at him. He sputtered for a moment and stood to leave the room. Eames grinned to himself. After a unknown amount of time Arthur reappeared with Yusuf and Ariadne, arms full of bags that smelled wonderful. 

 

Arthur didn’t mention what Eames had said but helped him sit up and gave him a styrofoam bowl full of egg drop soup. “I remembered that you liked it.” Arthur gestured to the soup. “It should be gentle on your stomach.” 

 

    Ariadne crawled up on the other side of Eames’ bed, curling up with her stir-fry against his side. “I thought you had a heart attack or something,” Ariadne muttered, her heart not into the burn. 

 

    “You were worried about me?” Eames asked, slowly eating his soup. 

 

    “Eames, I knew something was wrong when you didn’t show up the other day. Then the people who kidnapped you sent a letter to the paper demanding that we publish a ransom. Trying to lure that vigilante in. The whole office was in chaos.” Ariadne gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before wiping her eyes. “Well, it’s good to see you’re okay. I mean you didn’t even break a hip. Must be taking your calcium.” 

 

    “There she is.” Eames smiled leaning his head on hers. He looked up at Arthur who was watching them with a warm look. Yusuf was ignoring them in favor of food. 

 

    After he ate, Eames settled back on his pillows, Ariadne snuggled to his side. It wasn’t long before he was asleep. 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

    Eames woke sometime in the early morning, his bladder screaming. When he looked over Ariadne was fast asleep. He hated to wake her but he really needed to go.

 

    He nudged Ariadne, waiting for her eyes to focus before he started talking. “I need to use the washroom. Is Arthur here?”

 

    Ariadne rubbed her eyes and looked around. “He said he was going to get some sleep and be back tomorrow. Yusuf is in the living room, I’ll get him.” She slid off the bed and scratched her head as she walked by.

 

    Minutes later, Yusuf appeared, rumpled with sleep in his ninja turtle pajama pants. He helped hold Eames’ IV while he held onto the wall when the room started tipping.

 

    He was exhausted by the time he was tucked back in bed.

 

    Arthur was there the next time he woke up. Judging by the pounding in his head and the bright lights, it was closer to noon. Arthur was fast asleep in the chair at the end of his bed, a fresh black ring under his left eye.

 

    “Arthur?” Eames asked.

 

    Arthur raised his head, looking around for a moment like he didn’t know where he was. “What the hell happened?”

 

    Arthur looked confused for a moment before he touched his cheek. “It’s nothing. I tripped and hit my face when I got home last night.”

 

    Eames narrowed his eyes. That was the flimsiest excuse and Eames wanted him to tell him the truth. He thought for a moment and decided to try a new tactic. “Arthur... Is there someone hurting you?” Eames tried to look as serious and concerned as he could.

 

    “What? Eames… no. No one is ‘hurting me’. You know I haven’t dated in months.”

 

    “The tell me the truth darling.” Eames sat up slowly and looked at Arthur earnestly.

 

    “Eames.” Arthur worried his lips and turned to look out the window. “There are some things that aren’t any of your business. I can tell you that I am not in an abusive relationship.”

 

    “And I’m supposed to just take it at your word?”

 

    “For now? Yes.”

 

    Eames huffed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t know how he could get Arthur to come clean but he would find a way.

 

    Arthur left that afternoon and didn’t come back. Ariadne and Yusuf stayed with him until the end of the week, making sure Eames didn’t overexert himself.

 

    Eames was frustrated with Arthur because he wasn’t even answering his phone calls. It was obvious Eames had gotten too close and he was trying distance himself. Eames was having none of that.

 

    That weekend, he finally pushed Ariadne and Yusuf out the door, promising he would see them on Monday. Yusuf left him with a bag of assorted medications that Eames would have to experiment with later on.

 

    Eames checked himself in the mirror; he still had a dark bruise around his left eye but thanks to ice packs, most of the swelling was gone. He still looked like hell but at least he could stand up straight.

 

    Eames spent the weekend testing his boundaries, making sure he could get around and be semi-active. By Sunday, he was fairly sure he could make it through work the next day.

 

    Ariadne was waiting in his chair on Monday, her feet kicked up on his desk. “Hey old man. Glad to see you back on your feet!” She jumped up and hugged him a little too tightly.

 

    Eames winced but let the tiny woman hold on. When she finally let him go, he looked up and realized that a lot of people were looking at him over the tops of the dividers. Eames felt self-conscious for a moment before they started congratulating him and telling him they were glad he was back.

 

    Eames grinned sheepishly and took his seat. He made some coffee and started going through the piled up emails he had missed while off. Ariadne tip-toed behind him and took some coffee. He heard her groan through the divider.

 

    “This isn’t up to snuff grandpa!” she huffed, lifting herself up on her desk.

 

    “Sorry petal. I’ve been told by Yusuf that I can’t drink for at least another week. Head injuries and all.” Eames smiled sweetly at her.

 

    “I know you have a flask somewhere. Don’t make me come find it. This layout is mind numbing and I need a little bump.” Ariadne gave him her most innocent smile.

 

    “I am leading you down a dark path.” Eames shook his head and pulled a metal flask from his bottom drawer,handing it over.

 

    “Oh please. I have a cup or two a day. It’s not that much.” Ariadne opened the flask and dashed a bit into her cup. “It is like having a hot toddy before bed. And I didn’t drink for the last four days I was at your house.” Ariadne took a sip and smiled. “By the way, you have two ‘Flatliner Fridays’ to make up. When you are feeling better.”

 

    Eames groaned into his hand, the future hangover already echoing in his head. “You are trying to kill me.”

 

    “Only trying to save you a couple years in the rest home.”

 

    “It’s good to be back,” Eames chuckled. He really did miss her when she wasn’t around.

 

    “I’m glad you are okay. Who could handle my merciless teasing other than you?”

 

    “Yusuf?” Eames suggested.

 

    “I don’t want to tease him with my words. With other parts…” she drifted off with a dopey smile.

 

    “I hope you have lovely fun exchanging bodily fluids,” Eames teased, but really he did want to see her happy. Ariadne smiled unfazed.

 

    “You too Eames. Arthur is ripe for the picking.”

 

    “We’ll see.”

 

 

    Eames was startled by the applause that met him when he entered the morning meeting. Everyone cheer for him and all the well-wishes overlapped in a confusing wall of sound. Cobb quickly got the crowd under control and the meeting continued as normal. Arthur shot him a few glances during the meeting but hadn’t come to talk to him yet.

 

    As they rose to leave, Cobb asked Eames to meet with him afterwards.

 

    “Eames, I know this is probably hard to think about but, would you be willing to write about your experience? I believe your story would be very compelling and it would shed light on the crime here in the city.” Cobb leaned against one of the folding tables.

 

    “I can try,” Eames said simply.  

 

    “Take your time. I will try to keep your work load light to give you time to work on it, okay? I really want to hear what happened in your words.” Cobb clapped him on the shoulder and gave him an awkward hug.

 

    Eames smiled and agreed to try his best to write it for him.

 

    Later Eames sat at his desk, staring at a empty document, wondering when Arthur was going to come see him. When the day ended and Arthur was a no-show, Eames got slightly annoyed.

 

    When Tuesday passed with no visit from Arthur, Eames got very annoyed. By Thursday, Eames had had enough.

 


	8. Chapter 8

    Eames came to work looking as dashing as he could with a bruise yellowing on his cheek. His stubble was neatly trimmed, he had worn a nice dark shirt and slacks. He was going to talk to Arthur today. 

 

Ariadne cat-called him when he reached his desk and it brought a smile to his face. 

 

“What are you all dressed up for?” Ariadne asked. 

 

“I’m going to talk with Arthur and today, he isn’t going to avoid me.” Eames tipped his coffee cup to Ariadne and started on a plan. 

 

After the morning meeting Eames watched as Arthur slipped out of the meeting room. He stood, ruffling Ariadne’s hair and moved to follow. He kept his distance and waited for Arthur to go into his office. 

 

Eames looked around the nearly empty hallway before quietly slipping in. 

 

“Eames, what are you doing?” Arthur sounded started when Eames turned to lock the door. 

 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Eames offered, moving to box Arthur in against his desk. 

 

“Eames.” Arthur was looking at Eames’ lips even as he put a hand against Eames’ chest. 

 

“You aren’t going to push me away again, Arthur. I want to truth from you. I wish you would quit hiding from me.” Eames moved into Arthur’s space, resting his hands on the desk on either side of Arthur’s hips.

 

“Eames, it’s none of your business,” Arthur muttered, a flush spread up his throat. 

 

“Well I’m making it my business.” Eames lifted Arthur’s chin, forcing him to look Eames in the eye. 

 

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed then suddenly he was kissing Eames. Eames was shocked for a moment but returned the kiss, wrapping his arm around Arthur’s waist. When Arthur’s tongue brushed against Eames’ lips, his brain fizzled out for a moment. 

 

The kiss became more heated as they explored each other’s mouths. Eames pulled their hips together, letting Arthur grind his growing erection against Eames’ hip. Eames sighed, breaking the kiss to bite the soft skin under Arthur’s jaw. 

 

Arthur shuddered, writhing against Eames. Eames noted that response for later and moved to brush his lips against Arthur’s ear. 

 

“Tell me the truth and I will drop to my knees right here,” Eames whispered. Arthur let out a shaky moan, his hands tightening around the back of Eames’ neck, trying to pull him in for another kiss. 

 

Eames nipped at Arthur’s lip, his hand slipping to brush against Arthur’s cock. Arthur jolted against him, rubbing himself against Eames’ palm. 

 

Eames let Arthur take his pleasure for a while, his own dick pressed painfully against his slacks. He still didn’t have the answer he was looking for and as hard as Arthur was trying to distract him, he couldn’t let that happen. 

 

Eames gave Arthur one last deep kiss and pulled away. Arthur looked a mess, his hair all over the place, cheeks flushed, the outline of his hard cock ruining the line of his pants. It took all of Eames’ will-power to take a step back. 

 

“Eames,” Arthur muttered, reaching to pull Eames back in. 

 

“I’m sorry darling, I can’t do this until you are honest with me.” Eames couldn’t resist brushing his thumb across Arthur’s kiss bruised lips. Arthur looked lost, and a little angry so Eames decided to give the man a little help.

 

“I already know who you are Arthur. When you’re ready to admit it, my window will be open for you. Just come in anytime.” Eames kissed Arthur’s slack lips and left his office. 

 

Eames leaned against the door, half hoping Arthur would come after him, but mostly taking a moment to get his dick under control. He made a beeline to the restrooms and splashed cold water on his face. 

 

Eames closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hoped he hadn’t pushed Arthur too far. He would hate to lose his job over this, but Eames was pretty sure Arthur wouldn’t do that to him. 

 

It took him several more minutes to get himself under control. Eames headed back to his desk, passing Arthur’s closed office door. He wondered if Arthur was still in there, and if he was, what was he doing? 

Eames shook his head and made himself put one foot in front of the other. When he got back to his desk Ariadne was snoring, leaned back in her chair. Distractions were always welcomed, Eames figured. So he got a cup of cold water from the cooler and stood over the sleeping Ariadne. 

 

Now he wasn’t mean enough to dump the cup over her but drip a little on her forehead? Oh he was that mean. He dipped his fingers in the water and let drops fall on Ariadne’s forehead. 

 

It took Eames flicking water in her ear for her to wake up. Ariadne glared at him and grabbed for the cup, trying to fling it at Eames, but he was already around the divider. She was laughing even as she cursed him. 

 

    ‘This is what made life worth living,’ he thought settling in his chair, waiting on Ariadne’s inevitable counter-attack.  

 

 

    Eames was still chuckling to himself as he pushed open his front door. It took Ariadne two days to reap her revenge but she had done it well. He had come in on Monday morning to a coffin shaped cake sitting in the middle of his desk and an office full of black “over the hill” balloons. It took him a few good minutes to find the pack of adult diapers she had stuffed in his desk. If he wasn’t too old for her, he would marry that girl. It had been several days but it still amused him to no end.  

 

    They had shared the cake with people around him who all thought it was Eames’ birthday. There were strange looks when he had to tell them that his birthday wasn’t for several months, Ariadne just wanted to let him know he was old. 

 

    Eames was still working on his account of his kidnapping. It was taking its toll so he had taken Friday off to relax a bit and have a long weekend. 

 

    He hadn’t seen Arthur for most of the week. Oh, Arthur was in the morning meetings, but he didn’t even look Eames’ way. That had stung a little. Eames hadn’t given up hope yet though,  the window leading to his fire escape was faithfully opened every night after he got home. 

 

    Eames understood that this was a big deal for Arthur and wanted to give him the space and time he needed to come to a decision. Not that he didn’t wish Arthur would get his head out of his arse and come get his brains fucked out. 

 

    Eames sat with a sigh on his couch, finally getting to have a beer. He kicked back and put a movie on Netflix, completely content just to be lazy that night. 

 

Two movies later Eames found himself drifting off. He shook his head and stood, unbuttoning his shirt on the way to the bathroom. He stripped down to his pants and brushed his teeth, figuring he could benefit from a little extra sleep. 

 

Eames crawled under his sheets, glancing at the open window. He wondered if Arthur would come to him. 

 

 

Eames was disappointed to wake up on Friday to an empty apartment. But it was a work day, he reminded himself. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand the smut has arrived! Enjoy guys!

    Eames spent his Friday cleaning. He didn’t know why the urge came over him but he looked around his apartment and just couldn’t take the clutter anymore. He felt restless with too much energy to sleep. He felt like something was going to happen, not necessarily something bad, but something and he needed to be ready. 

 

Once his house was in order, he showered, scrubbing and making sure he kept up his grooming. By dinner time he had even gone to the store to get fresh food. He hadn’t cooked in so long he was almost afraid to burn something. He might have been out of practice but his homemade fish and chips turned out wonderfully. 

 

He packed away his leftovers and settled in for another movie. Ariadne had texted him throughout the day, giving him updates on the day to day happenings at work. She had mentioned that Arthur had been by their desks several times, using flimsier excuses each time. 

 

‘He’s looking for you. He won’t say that, but that’s what he’s doing. Not checking that the layout is the right size. As if I would mess up!’ 

 

Eames smiled at his phone. Ariadne was a wonderful girl, and even though their ages were so different, she was his best friend. 

 

Finally, it had started to get late so Eames silenced Ariadne’s texts yelling at him for missing ‘Flatliner Friday’. She had been spamming him with pictures of Yusuf asleep in the booth. 

 

He wished her a safe night and plugged in his phone. He stripped to his pants and slipped between the sheets. 

 

Something jarred Eames awake. His clock read nearly five in the morning. He listened to see if he could figure out what had woken him. The shadows of his room shifted and he saw a dark figure standing at the end of his bed. 

 

Eames nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized it was Arthur in his Pointman costume. He was just standing there, watching Eames. 

 

“Shit! Arthur! You nearly gave me the heart attack Ari has been cursing me with.” Eames sat up in bed and studied the other man. 

 

Arthur still hadn’t moved. Eames started to wonder if he was dreaming all of this when Arthur reached up and pulled his hood back. His hair was a sweaty mess, standing up at all angles in the moonlight. Eames saw him take a deep breath and pull his mask down. 

 

Arthur’s face was smeared with black paint around his eyes, his face flushed with exertion. He had been busy that night. 

 

“I didn’t see you at work today. I was worried,” Arthur muttered awkwardly. 

 

“Arthur,” Eames whispered. 

 

There was a seconds pause where they studied each other before Arthur burst into motion. In a flurry of black leather Arthur was straddling Eames’ legs, his lips crushing Eames’, his gloved fingers caging Eames’ face.  

 

Eames moaned, his fingers buried in Arthur’s damp hair. Arthur had finally done it, and Eames couldn’t be happier. Eames quickly started working at the buckles and zipper of the armored jacket Arthur was wearing. He could feel the heat radiating off Arthur and wondered how he would survive the summer. 

 

Eames helped Arthur pull off his coat, tossing it to the floor. His hoodie went soon after. Eames let his hands wonder over Arthur’s overheated skin, muscles flexed under his fingers. Arthur had several bruises on his arms and sides of various colors and Eames soothed each one with his tongue. 

 

Arthur held Eames close with one hand while he pulled his glove off the other with his teeth. Eames grabbed Arthur’s other wrist and pulled that glove off before sucking Arthur’s fingers into his mouth. 

 

Arthur gasped, his hips rolling forward, seeking friction. Arthur arched his chest, silently begging Eames to touch him to which Eames was happy to oblige. 

 

Eames took his time, his tongue exploring Arthur’s salty skin, circling one nipple until it was achingly hard, then moving to the other. 

 

With a grin, Eames grabbed Arthur by the thighs, flipping them easily, landing Arthur on his back. 

 

Arthur gasped when Eames grabbed both of his wrists, pinning them above Arthur’s head. Eames claimed Arthur’s lips again, letting himself sink between Arthur’s spread legs. He could feel the ridged outline of Arthur’s cock through his leather pants. Eames’ set his teeth in Arthur’s bottom lip, wringing a moan from Arthur. 

 

“Keep your hands here,” Eames growled, wrapping Arthur’s fingers around the headboard. “You move and I stop.” 

 

Eames felt his cock jump when Arthur quickly obeyed him. This was giving him far too many ideas, but those would have to wait. Eames licked his lips, taking a moment to bury his nose under Arthur’s arm, breathing in the other man’s smell. 

 

Eames moved to kiss a wet trail down Arthur’s heaving chest, finding a ticklish spot that made Arthur suck in his stomach. Arthur was so wonderfully sensitive. 

 

Eames made quick work of Arthur’s belt and the button fly on Arthur’s leather pants. Eames moaned as he ran his lips over Arthur’s cock, straining against his underwear. Arthur’s breath caught when Eames eased his underwear down, freeing Arthur’s cock working Arthur’s pants down just enough to give him full access before running his tongue up the underside of Arthur’s shaft. 

 

Arthur shivered, his knuckles turning white as he fought to hang on the headboard. Eames had no intention of making it easy on Arthur so he took his time, slowly circling his tongue around Arthur’s glands. 

 

Arthur was making the most lovely noises so Eames rewarded him by taking the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. His own dick throbbed, Eames soothed the ache by grinding into his mattress. 

 

It was only when Arthur started begging for more did Eames take him all in. Arthur cried out, his hips lifting nearly off the bed, trying to chase the warmth of Eames’ mouth. 

 

“Oh god, Eames, please don’t stop.” Arthur’s voice was shaky, the muscles in his arms straining as he gripped the headboard. 

 

How could Eames deny such an earnest plea? Eames moaned around Arthur’s length, letting Arthur thrust into his mouth. When Arthur started trembling, Eames wrapped his arms under Arthur’s thighs, holding him in a tight grip as he swallowed around his cock. 

 

Arthur cried out breathlessly, his back arching off the bed as he came down Eames’ throat. Eames continued to work Arthur’s length until he was nothing more than a shivering mess in Eames’ arms. 

 

Eames let Arthur’s softening dick slip from his lips. Arthur still hadn’t let go of the headboard and Eames couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

“Oh you’ve been so good for me,” Eames muttered, crawling up Arthur’s body to straddle his chest. 

 

Eames licked his lips, pulling his own pants down enough to free his dick, giving it a few strokes as Arthur watched. 

 

“You can let go now pet,” Eames crooned lifting Arthur’s hands from the headboard. Arthur looked confused for a moment, as if he had forgotten his hands were there. Eames leaned in and kissed Arthur gently leading his hands to wrap around his length. Eames reached into his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube letting a generous amount drizzle over his prick and Arthur’s fingers. 

 

Arthur worried his lip as he squeezed gently. Eames sighed, leaning an arm against the wall above his bed before beginning to thrust into Arthur’s fists. Eames knew he wasn’t going to last long but Arthur was there, in his bed, looking completely undone, it was hopeless. 

 

Arthur watched him with dark eyes, his makeup still clinging to his skin. Eames shuddered, feeling himself getting closer, his skin prickled as the pressure built in his gut. 

 

“Oh Arthur,” Eames moaned. 

 

Arthur licked his lips, his thumb slipping inside Eames’ foreskin and around the head of his dick. 

 

Eames choked out a cry as he came, ropes of come shooting over Arthur’s fingers and chest as his hips stuttered. Eames groaned, thrusting once more, the final spurt landing on Arthur’s chin. Eames slid down Arthur’s body, and pressed their chests together, not caring about the mess he had made. 

 

Arthur’s face was flushed and Eames could feel that Arthur was partially hard against him but was most likely in no state to take care of it. Eames collected the stray come with his fingers and let them slip between Arthur’s lips. Arthur moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he cleaned Eames’ fingers with his tongue. Eames removed his fingers so that he could kiss Arthur, slowly this time.

 

     “That was intense,” Arthur whispered, his arms wrapping around Eames. 

 

    “That it was, darling.” Eames moved to rest his ear against Arthur’s chest, listening to his heart. 

 

    “I’m glad I came,” Arthur muttered, running his fingers through Eames’ hair. “I tried not to. But I couldn’t stay away after I was sure you knew who I was. I just hope you don’t expect me to stop.” 

 

    Eames shushed Arthur with his lips. “I would never ask you to stop. I can tell it’s important to you.” 

 

    Arthur seemed to relax against Eames. “I promised my grandmother I would make a difference. It was her last wish, for me not to sit idly by but to stand up and fight. I don’t think this is exactly what she meant, but it feels right.” 

 

    They fell silent for a while until Arthur began to fidget. “Eames, I can’t sleep like this, I need a shower first.” 

 

    Eames made a dissatisfied sound as he rolled to the side, letting Arthur up. Eames watched with amusement as Arthur struggled out of his tight pants. Arthur nearly fell twice trying to get his feet out of the legs. 

 

    When Arthur disappeared into the bathroom, Eames pulled a wet wipe out of his bedside table and tried to clean himself as best he could, righting his pants. The idea of joining Arthur was appealing but the tiny shower stall wouldn’t be big enough room for both of them. 

 

    Eames was almost asleep when he remembered that Arthur had nothing to wear. Eames groaned as he got out of bed and dug through his drawers for something that might fit Arthur’s narrow waist. 

 

    He settled on a soft, worn t-shirt and a pair of sweats with a drawstring. He left them on the bathroom counter and slipped back between the sheets, pleased that they were still warm. 

 

    Sometime later he was awakened by Arthur slipping into bed behind him. Eames sighed happily when Arthur slid up behind him, wrapping an arm around Eames waist. 

 

    Eames heard his phone buzz on the nightstand. Knowing it was Ariadne with more pictures of Yusuf, he ignored it and let himself slip back to sleep in Arthur’s arms. 

 

 

Eames stretched his arms, noticing an empty space in his bed that was filled the night before. His eyes shot open and he looked around the room, frightened for a moment that Arthur had left. When he noticed Arthur’s boots tucked neatly against the wall and his leather jacket over the back of a chair, Eames relaxed with a sigh. 

 

It took a few more moments of snoozing before he noticed the knocking and banging coming from the kitchen. Eames sat up when he heard a pan clatter to the floor. 

 

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Eames asked from the other room, slinging the sheets off his legs and moved quickly towards the kitchen. 

 

“I’m fine!” Arthur announced as Eames nearly skidded to a stop at the bar. He was still in Eames’ clothes from the night before. Eames thought he looked adorable in his “trek yourself before you wreck yourself” t-shirt, but Arthur seemed harried and nervous as he meticulously laid bacon in a pan. 

 

“Arthur.” Eames moved into the small kitchen wrapping his arms around Arthur’s waist. “Are you sure you are okay?” 

 

Arthur took a deep breath and melted against Eames’ chest. “I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. 

 

“Of what?” Eames reached out and turned the stove top off before resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder. 

 

Arthur gestured to Eames’ apartment vaguely. “This? You’re the only person that knows who I am.”

 

Eames was silent for a moment, letting Arthur’s breath slow and sync with his own. “I am honored that you trusted me enough to show me this. And believe me when I say: I will never give up your secret.” 

 

“But Eames, you were already targeted because of me.” 

 

“We will deal with that as it comes. I will continue to feed you whatever information you want. I would have, even if you never revealed yourself. Yes, I was afraid. But I survived and I will keep surviving. But I want you to do it with me.” 

 

“Eames, you have to know I won’t stop. I can’t at this point. After what I have seen, even the little that I do makes this city better.” Arthur leaned his cheek against Eames’ and let Eames tangle their fingers together. 

 

“You are amazing in action Arthur, and I would never expect you to stop. But I can mother hen you when you are injured, patch you up when needed, and make home life exciting enough to keep you coming back.” 

 

“Exciting huh?” Arthur teased, finally pulling away to start breakfast again. 

 

“Oh my dear you have no idea,” Eames growled against the back of Arthur’s neck. “I could keep you on edge for hours if I wanted to.” 

 

Arthur visibly shivered, his cheeks flaming red. “Oh? That could be interesting.” 

 

“That will have to be another day though love, there are some real talks we need to have before then. But just know, I’m with you. As amazing as this arse would look in spandex, my job is better severed behind the scenes.” 

 

Arthur chuckled, the tension seeming to leave him. “Go shower. You smell like lube and sex.” 

 

Eames grinned and stripped his underwear off in the kitchen before slowly walking to the bathroom. He could hear Arthur’s approving grunt as he turned the corner. 

 


	10. Six Months Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter guys! Enjoy all the kink! Keep your eyes open for more Vigilante!verse! I have a feeling they will make an appearance during Kink Bingo!

    Eames was awake in bed watching the clock as it slowly ticked past 4:30 am. Arthur was late. Eames sighed and rolled onto his back, pretending not to watch the window, the curtains fluttered with the warm breeze. After another 10 minutes, Eames tried to sleep. 

 

Eames didn’t know how long he had been asleep when rustling and heavy boot falls woke him. Eames grinned to himself. Finally, he had been waiting for this all day. Eames slid quickly out of bed and launched himself at Arthur. 

 

Eames grabbed a handful of hoodie, pulling Arthur off balance, before kicking the back of his knee. Arthur went to the floor but grabbed Eames’ wrist and swiped his legs out from under him. For a split second, Eames wondered about the downstairs neighbors but the thought was forgotten as Eames got the breath knocked out of him. Eames pushed on, rolling on top of Arthur, using his weight to pin the smaller man under him. 

 

    They had a deal, whomever bested the other got to do what they pleased with the loser and Eames had too many plans to lose. Besides, Arthur didn’t really want to win. 

 

    Eames forced Arthur onto his belly and sat on his hips. Arthur put up plenty of struggle when Eames tried to get Arthur’s hands behind his back. Finally Eames had one hand and he secured it with one part of zip-tie cuff. It wasn’t long before Arthur began to flag and Eames got his other hand secured. 

 

    Eames had won. Arthur was panting through his mask, hood pulled all the way back in the scuffle. Eames took a moment to catch his breath and pull his undershirt over his head. 

 

    Eames stood and adjusted himself through his sweats, he was already getting hard at the thought of what he was going to do to Arthur. 

 

    “What’s the safe word?” Eames asked squatting next to Arthur’s head. 

 

    “Duchess,” Arthur muttered, muffled through the mask. 

 

    “Give me a color?” 

 

    “Green.” Arthur’s hips surged against the carpet and Eames grinned. 

 

    “That’s enough of that. You only come when I say so.” Eames lifted Arthur to his knees and pulled the mask down. “What do we say?”

 

    “Yes, sir.” Arthur’s eyes were already dark with arousal. 

 

    “Good boy. Now, up you get.” Eames hooked his hands under Arthur’s arms and helped pull him to his feet. 

 

    Eames moved behind Arthur, working his jacket open from behind. Arthur had sewn his hood into the jacket to avoid extra layers during the warmer months, and Eames was pleased to see Arthur was bare underneath. 

 

    Eames explored the sweat damp skin of Arthur’s chest, taking time to pinch his nipples until Arthur gasped and arched his back away from Eames’ chest. Arthur sagged once Eames let go, his breath coming in harsh gasps. 

 

    Eames made a pleased sound when he traced the outline of Arthur’s hard cock through his leather pants. Arthur made a low sound in the back of his throat when Eames eased open the fly and brushed his fingers along Arthur’s length. 

 

    Arthur made a disappointed sound when Eames stepped away, moving to help Arthur out of his boots. Eames stayed on his knees, grinning up at Arthur as he worked the leather down Arthur’s legs, leaving him in his underwear and jacket. 

 

    “Now remember Arthur; I choose when you come.” Eames watched Arthur’s face as he nuzzled Arthur’s balls, taking in the scent of Arthur and sweat. Arthur bit his lip when Eames suckled at the head of his cock through his underwear. 

 

    Eames finally peeled Arthur’s underwear down his legs and tossed them to the side. Arthur’s cock was standing at full attention, clear fluid starting to dribble from the head. Arthur was going to have a really hard time controlling himself and it amused Eames to no end. 

 

    Eames wasted no time taking it into his mouth, swallowing when Arthur let out a sharp cry. Eames stroked soothing hands over Arthur’s thighs, but didn’t slow his ministrations. Arthur trembled, his hips twitching against his will. 

 

    Eames moaned, hands gripping Arthur’s ass firmly as he swallowed him to the hilt. Seconds later Arthur was panting his name, trying to signal that he was close, but unable to push Eames away with his hands bound. Eames could feel the tell-tale signs that Arthur was going to come and suddenly backed off, sitting on his heels and watching as Arthur writhed. 

 

    Eames gave Arthur a few more moments to get himself under control before he stood and ushered Arthur towards the bed. 

 

    “I’m going to let your hands go for just a moment. Don’t give me any problems.” Eames cut the plastic ties with a pair of scissors he had stashed earlier in the evening. Once Arthur’s hands were free he started struggling again. Eames huffed out a laugh, loving when Arthur gave him a challenge. 

 

    In the struggle, Eames got Arthur’s jacket off of him, leaving just his mask around his neck. Arthur wasn’t fighting to get loose from Eames, he was fighting to make Eames more forceful with him. Eames obliged, shoving him to the mattress, holding Arthur with a knee on his chest while he tied first one hand then the other to the headboard with the rope that was already looped there. Arthur looked up at him, shocked, and started pulling at the rope to test its strength. 

 

    Eames moved to straddle his chest, letting Arthur wear himself out a little while Eames ran his fingers over Arthur’s arms and chest, watching the muscles flex and release. Finally Arthur sagged into the ropes, eyes glassy and his skin flushed. 

 

    “Give me a color?” Eames stoked Arthur’s cheek, smearing black makeup. 

 

    “Green,” Arthur gasped, trying to catch his breath.

 

    “That’s my boy.” Eames reached into his bedside table and pulled out a wet wipe and started gently cleaning some of the makeup off Arthur’s face. “That’s better. Now what should we do with you? Hmm? I can’t let you get away with that behavior now can I?” 

 

    Eames grabbed the clover clamps from the bedside table and dropped them in the center of Arthur’s chest. Arthur froze, the shock of the cold chain against his flushed skin definitely getting his attention.

 

   Eames scooted down a bit, feeling Arthur’s cock against his ass. He hummed as he kneaded Arthur’s chest, working Arthur’s nipples between his fingers.  Eames leaned down and sucked one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. Arthur was making lovely gasping noises, making Eames’ neglected dick throb. 

 

    Eames pinched Arthur’s nipple and attached the clamp right behind his fingers. Arthur hissed, his back arching off the bed. Eames watched as he gave his prick a stroke through his sweats. After a moment he gave Arthur’s other nipple the same treatment, the silver chain draping across Arthur’s chest. 

 

    Eames leaned down to give Arthur a filthy kiss, his tongue pushing past Arthur’s lips as Eames tugged on the chain gently. Arthur moaned into the kiss, his cock jumping against Eames’s backside. 

 

    Eames broke the kiss, moving to slip off his sweats and underwear before straddling Arthur again, making sure the other man’s dick was flush between his cheeks. Eames rolled his hips, rubbing himself against Arthur’s prick as he tugged at the chain again. 

 

    Arthur tensed and shivered hard, his hips shifting to find more friction. Eames grinned to himself, as he reached for the bottle of lube in the bedside table. 

 

    Arthur watched Eames closely as he popped the cap, drizzling lube on his fingers. Eames reached behind him stroking Arthur’s cock, spreading the lube over him. Arthur shifted beneath him and sighed, Arthur’s hips lifting slightly in Eames’ grip. 

 

    Eames gave Arthur a final squeeze and shifted himself further up Arthur’s chest, the chain from the clamps cold between his thighs. Eames gripped the back of Arthur’s head, brushing the head of his cock against Arthur’s lips. 

 

    “Open up for me love,” Eames crooned. Arthur obediently opened his mouth, his tongue slipping out to slip over Eames’ foreskin. 

 

    Eames pressed the bottle of lube into Arthur’s hand and squeezed a bit more over his own fingers. 

 

    “Now Arthur dear, if this gets to be too much, drop the bottle and I will stop.” Arthur watched Eames with glazed over eyes but didn’t give a response, his tongue still slipping around the head of Eames’ prick. “I need a responds.” Eames punctuated his point with a tug to Arthur’s hair. 

 

    Arthur hissed, but nodded his head. “Drop the bottle. Got it.” When Eames looked at him expectantly Arthur grinned up at him. “Sir.”  

 

    “Little shit,” Eames chuckled, thrusting his dick slowly over Arthur’s offered tongue. Eames warmed Arthur up slowly, working his way bit by bit into Arthur’s mouth. When he was finally pushing at the back of Arthur’s throat he gripped Arthur’s hair pushing in as Arthur swallowed around him. 

 

    Eames held himself there, moaning lowly as the heat of Arthur’s mouth and throat worked around him. When Arthur started making small choking noises he backed off letting Arthur get a few gasps of air before thrusting back in. 

 

    Eames set a quick pace as he fucked Arthur’s throat. Eames reached back and slipped his lube covered fingers inside himself. Eames fingered himself open, thrusting back on his fingers, letting his dick almost slip from Arthur’s lips before sinking back in. 

 

    Eames couldn’t stop the noises falling from him, Arthur always had a lovely mouth, especially when it was sucking him off with such enthusiasm. Eames felt the pressure building in his gut and wondered if he should come down Arthur’s throat. 

 

    Eames decided against it, pulling himself from Arthur’s lips when he got too close. Arthur strained against the hand in his hair, trying to get Eames back in his mouth. 

 

    Eames gave Arthur’s hair a playful tug and slipped his fingers out of himself. He took the bottle of lube back from Arthur and sat it on the table before sliding back down Arthur’s body. Eames gripped Arthur’s cock and lined it up before slowly letting himself sink down. 

 

    Arthur panted loudly as Eames let the fullness of Arthur’s cock stretch him open. Arthur’s legs were shifting around as he struggled to find purchase on the slick sheets. Finally Arthur tried to thrust up into Eames, almost mindless in his quest for release. 

 

    Eames’s held his weight on his knees, letting Arthur fuck him as he slowly pulled at his own cock. Arthur glanced over Eames’ prostate and set sparks off behind his eyes. Eames reveled in the sight and feel of Arthur, watching as Arthur started to shake. Eames leaned one arm on the headboard changing the angle so Arthur hit his sweet spot a bit better. 

 

    Eames watched as a bright red flush spread over Arthur’s chest and he pulled on the clamps, reminding Arthur that they were there. 

 

    When Arthur was just on the verge of coming Eames unclipped first one then the other clip, drawing a pained shout from Arthur, his hips stuttering to a stop as pain shocked through his body. 

 

    Eames shushed him softly, soothing Arthur’s nipples with gentle fingers and lips. “Color?” Eames asked thrusting against Arthur’s stomach. 

 

    “Green, very very green.” 

 

    “How bad do you want to come?” Eames asked. 

 

    Arthur whimpered and tried to thrust back up into Eames but he lifted himself off of Arthur’s length. 

 

    “Damn it Eames!” Arthur cried, thrusting into the air looking for friction. 

 

    “Now, now Arthur, you wouldn’t want me to leave you like this would you? I could go toss off in the bathroom and make some breakfast.”

 

    “Please,” Arthur pleaded. 

 

    Eames kissed Arthur gently before moving between his legs. Eames stroked his hands along Arthur’s trembling thighs, encouraging him to spread them further. Eames took a deep breath, steadying himself. Arthur was quite the site and Eames was struggling with his own self-control at the moment. 

 

    Eames retrieved the bottle of lube, spreading some over his fingers before working Arthur open. Eames mercilessly worked Arthur’s prostate, watching as a pool of precome grew on Arthur’s belly. Anytime the other man got too close to coming, Eames backed off, waiting until Arthur calmed a little. 

 

    When Eames thought Arthur was ready, he coated his own cock with lube and lined up with Arthur’s hole. 

 

    “Now remember, don’t come until I tell you to,” Eames reminded Arthur who made a frustrated noise as he pulled at the ropes. 

 

    Eames’ eyes flickered closed as he sank into the heat of Arthur’s body. Eames took a moment to breath, Arthur’s ass threatening to milk him dry. Eames was secretly grateful that Arthur was so on edge because he wasn’t going to be able to last long himself. 

 

    Eames watched Arthur’s hole cling to him as he slipped out almost to the head before thrusting back in. Arthur cried out, making broken little noises as Eames rolled his hips. Eames watched as Arthur bit his bottom lip, trying his best to keep control. 

 

    Eames gripped Arthur’s hips, pounding into that tight heat. He felt his own orgasm building and felt powerless to stop it. 

 

    “Arthur, I want you to come now,” Eames gasped, reaching down to give Arthur’s red, aching cock a single stroke. 

 

    Arthur howled, throwing his head back as he came. Eames gasped as Arthur’s hole clamped down around him. Ropes of come painted Arthur’s stomach and chest as Arthur’ drew taunt. Just when Eames thought it was over Arthur’s eyes shot open in shock before rolling back in his head as he started to come again. 

 

    Eames couldn’t take it anymore and buried himself as deep as he could, pleasure pulsing through his body as he came hard. Every time Arthur’s body clenched around him another wave washed over Eames, whiting out his vision. 

 

    When Eames came down they were both shivering and over sensitive. Eames carefully pulled his softening cock from Arthur’s body and moved to untie the rope around Arthur’s wrist. Eames shifted to lay next to Arthur, carefully rubbing the circulation back into Arthur’s hands. 

 

    Arthur was drifting, completely spent and on the edge of sleep. Eames kissed Arthur’s slack lips and the tip of each red finger. Arthur smiled weakly, scritching his fingers through Eames, short beard. 

 

    “Rest for a moment, I’m going to get something to drink and a washcloth,” Eames whispered. Arthur nodded weakly. 

 

    Eames slipped from the bed, his legs a bit wobbly as he walked to the kitchen. He grabbed a couple of bottles of water and a package of beef jerky. He always kept some handy after Arthur had requested it after their first scene. 

 

    Eames sat the food on the bedside table and helped Arthur sit up a little, tucking pillows behind his back. Eames opened a bottle and handed it to Arthur before going to the bathroom and retrieved a cloth, wetting it. He cleaned himself up quickly and brought another cloth for Arthur. 

 

    Eames hummed as he kneeled beside the bed, slowly washing come, lube, and sweat from Arthur’s body. Arthur sighed happily as he chewed on some of the jerky. Eames chuckled and ruffled Arthur’s hair. 

 

    Eames discarded the cloth in the bathroom and grabbed some jerky and water for himself. “Is there anything I can do for you darling?” 

 

    Arthur hummed as he scrunched up his face. “Nap with me. Then I want ice cream.” 

 

    “Whatever you want,” Eames chuckled and crawled in bed behind Arthur, spreading blankets over both of them. “Was that exciting enough to keep you coming home?” Eames teased. 

 

    “More than enough,” Arthur agreed sleepily. 

 

    “Well I try. It’s hard sometimes to compete with beating up bad buys.” Eames kissed the back of Arthur’s neck as morning light filtered through the curtains.

 

    “I love you. And I will always make time for you,” Arthur whispered snuggling his back against Eames’ chest. 

 

    “I love you too, Arthur.” Eames watched as Arthur’s face slowly relaxed. Later he would drag Arthur out for ice cream and they could huddle together over files and police reports. Arthur might leave that night or the next, taking out bad guys and making their city safer. Monday morning they would drag themselves to work where Ariadne would tease them about being old, or gay (her new favorite thing was to tease them about how much in gay love they were) and things would be normal for a few hours. 

 

    His vigilante would patrol the city and Eames will worry. Arthur would always come home to him in his crappy little apartment. Eames couldn’t be happier.


End file.
